


Trust Fall

by Miss_Vile



Series: Nygmobblepot One Shots [20]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Idiots in Love, Light Bondage, M/M, Mutual Pining, Shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25534534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Vile/pseuds/Miss_Vile
Summary: There never seemed to be a moment where the two of them could indulge in the practice during their short time as Mayor and Chief of Staff. The demands of their positions— both in Office and in the Underworld— left them with limited leisure time. Not to mention the fact that shortly into their partnership, Oswald’s feelings had shifted towards the romantic and complicated things. It left him with a feeling of want that he wasn’t comfortable bringing into the room. He much preferred being physically suspended rather than have his heart exposed and dangling from a string. So, he always came up with excuses any time Edward suggested it after a long day’s work.Now, years later, here they were again...
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Series: Nygmobblepot One Shots [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1396144
Comments: 16
Kudos: 51





	Trust Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yanderebeats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yanderebeats/gifts).



They missed this.

  
  


Ed first suggested it back when Oswald was recovering at his apartment. Oswald had suffered through enough sleepless nights from the chronic pain in his shoulder and mangled leg that he was willing to try just about anything. Of course, that didn’t make Edward’s suggestion that he let him tie him up and suspend him from the rafters any less awkward.

  
  


_“I think you’ll find it quite enjoyable,” Edward smirked over the rim of his coffee mug, “I’ve been very thorough in my research. I know a variety of knots and the support beams are more than adequate structure to safely suspend you from them.”_

  
  


Before losing his empire, Oswald rarely slept without a weapon under his pillow let alone allow a complete stranger to restrain him. Perhaps it was the wine talking or the decadent French cuisine or maybe it was the opaque depths of the man’s eyes that compelled him to make that leap. Trust came frighteningly easy.

  
  


The knots and the added sensation that came from being suspended relieved a lot of the tension he held in his hips and back. Relief washed over him as he found himself able to breathe for the first time in months. There was a different sort of relief that came the moment Edward stepped away from his handiwork and played the first notes of that familiar and painful lullaby at the piano. The cry was cathartic and precisely what his heart needed then.

  
  


There never seemed to be a moment where the two of them could indulge in the practice during their short time as Mayor and Chief of Staff. The demands of their positions— both in Office and in the Underworld— left them with limited leisure time. Not to mention the fact that shortly into their partnership, Oswald’s feelings had shifted towards the romantic and complicated things. It left him with a feeling of want that he wasn’t comfortable bringing into the room. He much preferred being physically suspended rather than have his heart exposed and dangling from a string. So, he always came up with excuses any time Edward suggested it after a long day’s work.

  
  


Now, years later, here they were again.

  
  


Oswald dressed comfortably for the occasion— a black tanktop and boxer-briefs to match. He liked the burn from the rope against his skin so he didn’t care for wearing much else. As Edward secured the knots and carabiner clips dangling from the supports beam, he looked down at himself and frowned. The years had not been kind to him.

  
  


It was funny how he hadn’t thought twice about allowing Edward to see his scars. He dismissed it when they first met because Ed had divested him of his soiled clothes and had already seen far more of him than anyone had before. And, in moments since then, Ed saw more of who he was a person than anyone ever could. There was no point in hiding them… which was oddly comforting.

  
  


Edward was a fan of theatrics and, though he’d never stated it out loud, fancied himself an artist. He certainly had an eye for aesthetics, albeit his personal style was far more flamboyant than Oswald’s tastes. The coils of green and purple rope were laid out on a table nearby. Oswald smiled at their signature colors and wondered how Ed was able to find something so specific in the formerly war-torn Gotham. Though, it wouldn’t have surprised him if Ed just happened to have the rope on hand. 

  
  


The two men exhaled as the air shifted around them. There was a weight on their shoulders that they refused to name. If it was love that extended beyond their mended friendship, Oswald was certain he’d be the last to know. He quietly wished he could call it that but knew that it was unlikely given the torment he put the other man through.

  
  


“If I do anything you don’t like, just say the word,” Ed told him, rolling up his sleeves.

  
  


“You assume I wouldn’t?”

  
  


“I know you would, but it needed to be stated,” his hands hovered in the air, “Shall we begin?”

  
  


Oswald nodded and immediately shivered as he felt Ed’s hands glide across his shoulders and down his arms. His careful fingers kneaded away the tension in his neck and shoulders. It took him a moment, but Oswald was able to relax and relinquish control of his limbs. 

  
  


He guided Oswald's arms out to his sides and looped the jute rope around his shoulder and across his clavicle. He repeated the process across his chest and made sure to slide his fingers between the rope and skin to test the tension.

  
  


Ed was reverential in these moments— his focus entirely on the rhythmic movement of his fingers and the mathematics of each individual knot. It was the only time Oswald had ever known the man to be quiet. For one reason or another, Ed chose to let the rope speak for him. There were no riddles. No anxious humming. Just calm, even breathing that synchronized with Oswald’s heartbeat.

  
  


He took Oswald’s hands into his own and gently massaged at the joints. He groaned slightly under the pressure. His knuckles were bruised from months of tearing through Gotham’s underbelly and securing his place at the top. He and Ed had managed to secure the Van Dahl mansion after the mines were removed from the river, but they still had a long way to go before there was enough of a network in place to erect their empire.

  
  


Ed carefully twined thin, braided nylon between Oswald’s calloused fingers. The gesture was almost sensual, but Oswald pushed that thought from his mind just as quickly as it had come. The intricate latticework fit like a glove and helped dissolve some of the tension in the palms of his hands and wrists. Ed then took his arms and placed them one on top of the other before continuing the knots for the chest harness.

  
  


He gave the knots that bound Oswald’s wrists a firm tug to make sure that the harness was secured. Normally, Ed would have tied Oswald’s arms behind his back to open his ribcage, but he seemed to have other plans. Edward took a step backward to overlook his work. Oswald looked down and chuckled slightly at how this particular harness resembled a straight jacket.

  
  


“I guess I’m also a sentimentalist,” Ed smirked.

  
  


“The knots are tighter than normal,” he said, shifting slightly and ignoring Ed’s echo of their past.

  
  


The man ignored his comment, knowing that Oswald wasn’t really complaining, and walked over to the piles of rope on the table. He chewed at his nail bed for a moment while he contemplated what to do next. Oswald furrowed his brow at that. It wasn’t like Ed to not have a plan already meticulously lined out but, judging by his friend’s hesitancy, he was deviating from that plan.

  
  


Ed leaned against the table and stared. It wasn’t uncommon for them to get locked in a staring match nowadays, but the intensity and clarity of Edward’s gaze made Oswald feel unbalanced.

  
  


“Ed?” he whispered through his haze.

  
  


He removed his tie— calm and deliberate. The sound of silk against linen as Ed slowly pulled it from the confines of his collar made Oswald bristle. Ed’s eyes never left his as he draped the fabric in one hand and made his way toward where the other man was currently tied up and vulnerable.

  
  


Ed took the cloth in both hands and held it up towards Oswald’s face and waited for permission. They hadn’t done this before nor had they spoken about it prior to the scene. Oswald nodded. Trust, it would seem, was still easy.

  
  


Ed paused for a moment as he brought the aubergine brocade closer to his eyes. Oswald dared to believe that he saw his friend’s pupils dilate before his own were covered by the blindfold. He heard a wet sort of sound. Before he could question it, the tips of Ed’s fingers lightly pressed against his brow bone— just above his damaged, sacrificed eye.

  
  


Oswald exhaled as Ed’s touch melted away and quivered at the chill left in its wake. He was just about to beg Ed to touch him again before he felt a light tug on the harness. Mercifully, Ed placed one hand on his shoulder to stabilize him.

  
  


He slowly rose to his feet with Ed’s guidance. He stilled for several seconds. Oswald wondered if Ed was taking in the sight of him or was simply savoring the control he was allowed over the King of Gotham.

  
  


“How are you feeling?” Ed asked, his voice breathy.

  
  


Oswald responded with a contentful hum and a nod of his head. He hitched his breath the moment he felt Ed’s fingers lift his chin.

  
  


“You’ll forgive me if I require a verbal confirmation,” he sighed, “Wouldn’t want to get carried away.”

  
  


“Yes… Sorry,” he cleared his throat, “I’m fine. Please continue.”

  
  


Edward wrapped the rope just above the crown of his hip. Oswald was denied the visual but the heightened sense of touch more than made up for it. A kaleidoscope of intimate gestures helped paint the picture in his mind. It helped that Ed seemed more inclined to keep his hands on him at all times: Testing the ropes, running a thumb over gooseflesh, trailing his fingers over the diamond pattern that conveniently framed the bullet wound hidden beneath his shirt.

  
  


Once again, Edward lowered him back into a sitting position. He ran his fingers through Oswald’s feathery hair and massaged at his scalp. He hadn’t realized how much of a headache he had until then and lamented Ed’s nail-biting habit. He desperately wanted to be scratched.

  
  


As if reading his mind, Ed returned with a comb. A few gentle strokes across his scalp and the back of his neck made him feel like he was melting. Heat filled his cheeks when he heard Edward chuckle.

  
  


His attention shifted downward toward his legs. Oswald had done some stretches before he placed himself into Ed’s care, but he was still incredibly tense. Ed took notice and spent a considerable amount of time kneading at the taut flesh and pulled the stress down his thighs, calves, and to the balls of his feet.

  
  


“Is it really that amusing?” Oswald pursed his lips when Edward chuckled at a particularly low moan he let slip.

  
  


“It’s just nice to see you relaxed for once,” Ed said, “You’re all bullets and sharp edges the rest of the time.”

  
  


“You’re one to talk. It’s how men like us survive.”

  
  


“Precisely,” Ed’s voice was closer than he expected, “Which is why it’s nice to know that you trust me enough to take that mask off.”

  
  


The rope Edward used around his ankles was softer than the jute. Oswald guessed it was a laundered cotton based on how it felt when Edward ran it across his legs. He took extra care wrapping his injured ankle and battered knee. Oswald hissed when Ed added slightly too much pressure over where Jim had shot him not that long ago, Ed was quick to loosen the knots and even placed a kiss over the circular scar.

  
  


Once his legs were wrapped, Oswald could hear the jangling of metal rings above him. He straightened his posture and closed his eyes behind the blindfold as Edward looped the additional knots on his chest and waist harness.

  
  


“Is this still comfortable?” Ed asked, tugging slightly on his intricate pulley system.

  
  


“Yes.”

  
  


Edward helped Oswald to his feet once more, placing a hand on his chest.

  
  


“Take a few breaths, Ozzie.”

  
  


Oswald chuckled at the nickname before taking in a few steadying breaths— in through the nose, out through the mouth.

  
  


“Now inhale. 1...2...3…” Ed teased him with a gentle tug of the rope, “and exhale.”

Oswald did as he was instructed. There was another tug and Oswald could hear the rope and wood creak above him. His shoulders tensed as he was carefully hoisted off of his feet. The stretch made him moan louder than when Ed had given him his massage.

  
  


Oswald dangled a few inches off of the floor like a toy on a string. When he and Ed had first done this, he experienced a stab of fear at the prospect of Ed taking advantage of his vulnerability and spilling his inside on the floor. The thought occurred to him now, but the visual it conjured up of Ed covered in his blood sent a different wave of emotion through his veins.

  
  


He felt his spine realign which made his legs feel a bit like jello. As his hips adjusted to the weight of his libs, Ed looped another cotton rope around his mangled leg. Carefully, Ed pulled his ankle back and secured it to the underside of his waist harness. All the while keeping a firm hand cradled under his knee so that the gravity didn’t cause any unnecessary stress to the limb. With his ankle secured, he worked on weaving the diamond pattern around his knee and securing it in place.

  
  


The other leg he was less careful with. He secured his other ankle to a separate rope hanging from the beam which caused his position to shift slightly. His hair fell across his forehead as his head lulled to the side.

  
  


Ed adjusted a few more ropes and allowed Oswald to settle into the position before gently pushing on his chest, causing him to swing lightly in the air. Oswald huffed at that. Though he wasn’t _really_ complaining.

  
  


He carefully removed the blindfold. Oswald’s eyelashes fluttered as his eyes readjusted to the firelight. He felt his face flush again the moment he realized he was eye level with his dear friend.

  
  


“Enjoying the view?” Oswald couldn’t help but smirk.

  
  


“Would you blame me if I was?” he smirked

  
  


“I suppose this makes you feel powerful.”

  
  


“It does,” he admitted with a grin, “But that’s not what I’m focused on right now.”

  
  


Ed’s fingers were trembling as he brushed the hair from Oswald’s face. The palm of his hand felt warm and inviting as he gently cupped his cheek. He leaned forward but stopped himself from breaching that invisible wall between them.

  
  


“Ed?” he swallowed.

  
  


“Yes, Oswald?” the pad of his thumb caressed his cheek.

  
  


“You… um… have my permission.”

  
  


Ed’s eyes widened as he searched Oswald’s face— no doubt looking for some hidden motive. When he found none, he inhaled a shaky breath and leaned in. The press of their lips ignited a spark long since buried in Oswald’s chest. He moaned against Ed’s lips, which made the other man moan in return.

  
  


The exchange of breath and warmth made the two of them cry for the first time in who knows how long. Both of them were drinking in the vulnerability of the other and neither seemed inclined to stop.

  
  


“I missed this…” Ed spoke.

  
  


“We never had this before.”

  
  


“No… I made sure to ruin that,” he frowned, “I meant that I missed being close to you.”

  
  


“I missed that too,” he blinked rapidly in thought, “If… this is something that you wish to continue… I won’t push you away.”

  
  


“Not like you could right now if you wanted,” he smirked.

  
  


“I could still tear your throat out with my teeth if I so choose.”

  
  


“Fair point,” Ed chuckled, caressing his face once again, “Music?”

  
  


“Please,” he nodded.

  
  


Edward made his way over toward the dusty old piano. It wasn’t perfectly in tune after having been abandoned at the mansion for years, but it played well enough. They were transported back to simpler times at 805 Grundy when he plucked away at the first notes. Before all of the betrayal and heartbreak. Before Arkham. Before No Man’s Land and the barricade. 

  
  


Once Oswald was cut down, they both knew that things would likely return to normal. Or at least as normal as they reasonably could, given the circumstances. But there would be nothing stopping them from enjoying the company of the other so long as they allowed it.


End file.
